“I don’t want you to miss more work than you have,” she argued. “You missed today.”
“Business was slow,” Ryan said. “Besides, I worked seven days a week for over a month getting ready for the Hotzones first Army training camp. I’m due a few hours here or there.”
The elevator dinged and opened on her floor. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” he said as they exited into her hallway. “And for selfish reasons. I’d like to take you out dancing again sometime. That means erasing the bad memories as soon as possible.”
“I don’t even want to think about how I was carrying on at that bar,” she grimaced. “If I’d been in New York, someone would have snapped a picture and held it for ransom for sure.”
He snagged her hand and pulled her close. “But you’re not in New York. You’re in Texas. With me.”
She smiled. “And I’m liking being in Texas.” She kissed him. “With you. But please. Stop me at one margarita next time.”
“You have my word.”
Her smile widened to a grin. “Yes. I have your word.” She started to turn.
He didn’t let her get away, tugging on her hand. “And that makes you smile, why?”
She glanced over her shoulder, pulling him forward. “Because you always say that, and I know you mean it. I like it.” She stopped abruptly, and Ryan almost ran into her.
“Easy there, sweetheart,” he warned and then frowned, noting the box in front of her door.
“Your father again?” he asked, feeling his gut tighten.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t been taking his calls. Or my mother’s, for that matter. So maybe. Every time I talk to them they tell me all the reasons why I should go back to New York. Our conversations always end badly.” She approached the door and Ryan followed, taking the bag she had in her hand and shuffling it to the hand where he held the other two.
He watched her bend down and study the package, his nerves prickling with discomfort. Today, he’d actually begun to think Sabrina might really want to stay here, to make a life here. Maybe with him. But there was one man Ryan knew he couldn’t compete with—her father.
“Weird,” she said. “There isn’t a return address or any postage.”
“Put it down,” Ryan ordered with such force that Sabrina dropped the box immediately.
“Why? What?” She held her hand to her chest. “You scared the heck out of me.”
Ryan set the bags down. “Back away and let me check it out.” He waited for her compliance and then squatted by the box. Bent his head and listened for any odd sound and then did a visual inspection.
Standing up, he turned to Sabrina. “Hand me your keys.”
“Ryan, what is going on?” she asked.
His fingers brushed her jaw. “I’m having one of those protective moments that you both love and hate. Your purse was stolen. We have to be cautious. Stay out here. I’ll open the package.”
“Why?” she asked, alarm flushing her cheeks. “Do you think it’s going to blow up or there’s a dead animal inside, or something creepy like that?”
Ryan settled his hands on her face. “Sabrina, sweetheart. Just trust me, okay? Let me do this, and then we can make our pizza and enjoy it.” He brushed his lips over hers. “And each other.”
She hesitated but nodded. “Okay.” He started to pull away, and she grabbed one of his hands. “Should we call the police?”
“I have far more training than anyone who would show up, I swear.”
“Oh, right,” she said. “But still…”
“I’ll be careful,” he promised. She was worried. About a box hurting him. How would she have been if she’d known him when he was gone for months, completely out of touch? “Stay right there until I call you.”
Ryan had already assessed the telltale signs of an amateur at work: the way the box was taped. And it was a recycled box from a local food manufacturer, which meant the person wasn’t worried about being traced. It also meant this package wasn’t from Sabrina’s parents.
First, Ryan unlocked her door and then cautiously picked up the package. “Be careful,” Sabrina called.
Despite the disconcerting circumstances, Ryan smiled as he entered the apartment and shut the door. He didn’t stop until he reached Sabrina’s kitchen, the opposite side of the living room, away from the windows and enclosed to absorb any blast, although he wasn’t expecting one. The kitchen also put him a good distance from the door, this allowed him to respond to whatever was inside if necessary, without endangering Sabrina.
He set the box down, pulled out a chair and set his cell on it. Then he grabbed a knife from the kitchen block. He sliced the box open and backed up, then waited. Nothing. Next he flipped the lid open. Waited again. Nothing. Finally, he knocked it to its side. Sabrina’s purse tumbled out. What the heck?